


Bent out of Shape

by SunflowerSupreme



Series: Witcher (A/B/O) [6]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22247545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: He found a doctor. Who said that he could sterilize him.Bent out of ShapeTo take offense; to become angry, agitated, or upset
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher (A/B/O) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1598041
Comments: 91
Kudos: 922





	1. Chapter 1

He’d been passing by, in search of a contract, when he’d gotten word that Dandelion was prancing around inns in Temeria. Why he was there Geralt had no idea, because it wasn’t one of the poet’s usual stops. But he was for the chance to see his friend nonetheless.

None of the people he questioned - innkeepers and brothel-owners - seemed to know where the poet was. They all agreed that he had been there - very recently - but none of them knew where he’d gone. With no other options, he went to Triss.

She opened the door to her sanctuary, peering out at him with worn eyes that seemed out of place for a sorceress who was meant to look young forever.

He didn’t have time to speak before she dragged him inside wordlessly, slamming the door behind him and bolting it. “He’s been arrested,” was all Triss had to say. She didn’t even have to tell him who ‘he’ was, Geralt could only shake his head.

“Who’s bed was he in this time?” he asked with a slight grin.

The sorceress looked away, rubbing her arm as though uncomfortable. “Geralt- Geralt, it’s not that.”

“What do you mean, not that?”

She sighed. “He found a doctor,” she said after a moment. “Who said that he could sterilize him.”

Geralt sucked in a deep breath. While the suppressants that Dandelion took were legal, if frowned upon, getting sterilized was a different matter entirely. “What’s his punishment to be?”

“A public whipping,” she said. Then she sighed. “And then he’ll be auctioned off.”

“Auctioned off?” Geralt repeated sharply. “What-”

“For breeding.”

It felt as though all the wind had been knocked out of him. “Triss-”

“It's tomorrow,” she said. “Well, fortunately - you’ll be glad to know - they don’t seem to have figured out who he is. He- he’s a mess Geralt, completely unrecognizable.”

That was a small blessing, at least Dandelion's career would be safe. “I’ll go and get him.”

* * *

In the end, he had no choice but to wait until the auction itself to save his friend. He’d not been able to find any leads on where Dandelion was being kept, and instead had sat with Triss and planned out their next move.

They were the first ones in the square the next morning, laying out Triss’ magical traps, then finding themselves a place near to the stage. Then they waited. “You are insufferably patient,” complained Triss.

“Side effect-”

“Of the mutations, yes I know!” She sighed and rubbed her hands together for warmth. “I can’t stop thinking about him, I mean- what was he thinking, Geralt?”

Geralt frowned, not wanting to divulge too many of Dandelion’s secrets to anyone, even someone he considered a trusted friend. “He hates that part of himself.”

Triss raised an eyebrow. “Geralt, I say this fondly, but he is the biggest whore I have ever met outside of a brothel.”

The Witcher snorted, sparing her an amused glance out of the corner of his eye. “You spend much time in brothels, Triss?” His eyes flicked back to the still-empty stage and said, “He prefers it to be on his terms.”

She nodded. “I could see that,” the sorceress confessed.

The event was drawing nearer and the crowd was growing larger and more rambunctious. Geralt grit his teeth and tried not to react as someone shouted about omega whores. “Don’t start a fight,” Triss whispered.

“I hadn’t planned to,” he lied.

It was easy to pick out who among the crowd actually intended to bid - mostly nobles, with fine clothing and servants - and who was just there to watch. A few pro-omega rights protestors had also shown up, standing at the side and shouting. He scanned the faces of the nobles, memorizing each one of them. _I hope none of you bastards ever need a monster killed_ , he thought. Then his lips twisted into a feral grin.

“What?” asked Triss.

“Those nobles,” he said with a nod. “They’ve come to bid.”

“And that amuses you?”

“I can’t wait until one of them puts out on a contract on a monster. I’ll see to it that not a single Witcher will help them.”

“What if the monster is hurting innocents?”

His grin faded. “Damn it, Triss, let me plot my revenge in peace.” He’d overcharge them then, or maybe, just maybe, use them as monster bait. Yes, that would do.

She studied the men. “I know a few of them. Don’t worry, I’ll see to it that they won’t get a single coin from King Foltest.”

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

Finally, an official came out onto the stage, announcing that the event would be beginning soon.

“Is this a damn party?” Geralt growled. “Why are whippings, hangings, and beheads such popular affairs.”

Triss shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Put ‘im in the stocks and let us ‘ave at him!” shouted a man from several rows behind Geralt. The Witcher swung around, scanning for the man who’d spoken.

“Easy, Geralt,” Triss said, placing her hand on his arm. “If people recognize you, they may recognize him.”

Geralt turned back around with a scowl. It was true that the sight of him might cause people to connect the Great Dandelion to the frightened omega on the stage, which was why part of their plan involved blanketing the entire area in smoke, and Geralt wearing a fur hood and keeping his head down.

“They’re bringing him,” said Triss softly.

When the bard was drug onto the stage, Geralt sucked in a breath. “Damn it.”

Triss’s eyes widened. Even as a beta, she no doubt could tell by the reactions of the crowd. “He’s in heat,” she said in disbelief.

Dandelion’s face was contorted with fear, his sides heaving as he struggled to breathe, pulled along by the officials. His usual flamboyant clothing was nowhere in sight, instead he wore old rags that did nothing to hide his shaking, nor how slender he’d become. The crowd was on its edge, everyone suddenly wanting a piece of the frightened omega. Even normal humans could be aroused simply by the desire to pick on something weaker than them, it seemed.

They’d originally meant to wait for the mob to settle - even if it meant waiting until after the beating, when the auction started - but seeing Dandelion in his current state, Geralt growled, “Now Triss.”

She nodded.

The darkness from the incense burners they’d set up the night before began to slowly fill the square, spreading between the feet of the attendees.

Geralt left her to work the magic, slipping to the front slowly. Even as the darkness began to rise to eye level, he could still see perfectly in the dark. Dandelion was tied to a post, limp, moaning and trembling. Geralt knocked aside the man holding the whip, kicking him a bit harder than was necessary.

By the time Geralt reached the poet, the darkness had already settled, the scent of it soothing the nerves of those around them, making them not question what was happening. Even Dandelion had been affected by it, closing his eyes and taking more measured breaths.

He didn’t know how long it would hold.

“Dandelion,” he murmured, placing a hand on his friend’s back. “I’m here.”

“G- Geralt?” he sobbed, his eyes snapping open. “Oh, thank the gods.”

He made short work of the bonds on Dandelion’s wrists, then carefully lifted him down from the podium, hurrying through the drugged crowd to where Roach waited. He shoved Dandelion on the horse and then swung up behind him, wrapping an arm around him to hold him in place. With a tap of his heels, they were racing away, just as the crowd started to yell, realizing that their prize was missing.

The poet cried out in fear and Geralt pushed Roach faster.


	2. Chapter 2

They looped out of the city to throw off anyone following them, then turned around and trotted back to Triss’ home where she was waiting to lift Dandelion off the horse. She supported him as Geralt dismounted, stepped aside as he lifted the poet off the ground and carried him into the house.

_He wasn’t supposed to be in heat_ , thought Geralt, gritting his teeth. They hadn’t prepared for that, they’d only planned to take him back to her house and patch up his wounds, then leave Temeria for a few years so no one would recognize him.

“The guest room,” Triss said, shepherding him inside.

Dandelion didn’t talk as Geralt carried him, following behind Triss through the sorceress’ home. He merely buried his face in Geralt’s neck, his lips rubbing over the Witcher’s scent glands. “Easy Dandelion,” he soothed.

He laid him out on his back, rubbing sweat from Dandelion’s forehead. “Has anyone-”

“Well - fuck Geralt - YES - what do you think?” the poet snorted. Anger colored his voice, but there was fear as well. And disgust, most likely directed at himself. “You- you thought they’d just let a perfectly good hole go to waste? Ha! I envy your idiocy.”

“I’ll bring him medicine,” Triss said softly. “To stop him from, ah-”

“Being pregnant?” snapped the bard. His usually playful smile contained nothing but disdain as he sneered at the sorceress, daring her to say anything else.

Geralt glanced over his shoulder and mouthed, _‘go’_ to Triss. She nodded and vanished out the door. He turned back to Dandelion, stroking his hair. “What do you want?”

Dandelion closed his eyes. “End this, Geralt. _Please_.” Geralt nodded and moved to start undressing the bard, keeping his movements as gentle as he could. The crotch of his trousers was already soaked with slick, which was leaking in droves from his ass.

Bruises decorated the poet’s pale skin, clearly, he’d fought back against his attackers. Rope burn ringed his wrists and ankles, and Geralt made a note to get him a salve, wishing the poet would allow him to kiss the wounds. But he knew better.

Then, as he’d done the last time Geralt had taken him, he rolled onto his stomach, sticking his ass up in the air. It didn’t take long for his scent to get the Witcher aroused, and he himself against Dandelion’s ass as he undressed, dropping his clothes onto the ground. 

When Geralt entered him, he let out a hoarse sob and a tremor ran through him. “Shhhh,” the Witcher murmured, running his hand down his side. “Dandelion, you’re safe.”

“Off,” rasped the bard.

Geralt pulled out obediently, looking down at his friend with concern written on his face. Very slowly and deliberately, Dandelion rolled onto his back. “I- I need to know it’s you, Geralt,” he said.

The Witcher smoothed his hair and kissed his forehead. “Why don’t you sit in my lap, that way you won’t be underneath me. Would that help?”

Dandelion peered up at him, licking his lips as he thought. Finally, he gave a slight nod, grabbing Geralt’s shoulders as the Witcher pulled him upright. Geralt laid out on his back, letting the troubadour make himself comfortable on his lap. 

He let his body give into the smell of Dandelion’s heat as the poet adjusted himself, rolling around on his lap as Geralt grew more aroused. Then Dandelion lifted himself up and lowered himself onto Geralt’s cock.

The Witcher grit his teeth. One unforeseen side effect of Dandelion facing him was that the poet would be able to see his face, his every emotion. It meant his friend would have a clear view of Geralt enjoying sex while he was just trying to make it end.

“Dandelion-”

“What?”

Geralt shook his head, reaching up to rub Dandelion’s shoulder. “Next time you try to get an illegal medical procedure,” he said gently. “Tell me first, so I can be there to keep an eye on it.”

“Oh of course!” the bard growled. “I’ll just let your insufferable alpha mentality loom over me for the rest of my life! I’m so glad I have a protector!”

“Dandelion-”

“Shut up and fuck me, Geralt.”

“If you’re sitting on my lap, you’ll have to do that yourself.”

Dandelion’s eyes narrowed, then the ghost of a grin appeared at the edge of his lips. It was gone just as fast, but Geralt relaxed slightly, glad to know his lovable, humorous friend was still hidden there somewhere.

The poet rocked forward, wincing with every movement. Geralt held his hips gently, rubbing his thumb against his skin in what he hoped was a soothing manner. It didn’t take much to wring the first orgasm from him, already hypersensitive as he was. Geralt closed his eyes, leaning back and letting Dandelion lead, rolling across his lap and grumbling bitterly to himself in a mixture of Elder Speech and the Common Tongue.

After his second orgasm, the poet slumped forward, laying his head on Geralt’s shoulder. “I can’t,” he moaned. “Geralt, I’m tired.”

The Witcher pushed himself up, pulling Dandelion with him, and leaned his shoulders against the headboard. He gripped his friend’s hips carefully, allowing himself to once again take the lead, thrusting slowly into him. “This will be over soon,” he promised.

“No, it won’t,” Dandelion rasped. “This is my life, damn it. I’m made to suffer.”

Geralt pulled him closer. “I won’t let you suffer,” he promised. “No, not because you're an Omega, but because you’re my friend.”

A sob slipped from Dandelion’s lips, and he buried his face in Geralt’s shoulder, tears spilling down his cheeks. “I want to sleep,” he whispered. “And get their stench off me.”

“I’ll ask Triss to draw a bath,” Geralt said, rubbing his shoulders.

“No, no, not until its over, Geralt.”

“Of course.”

Behind Dandelion, the door opened slowly. Geralt wouldn’t have noticed it if not for his Witcher senses, but Triss leaned in and placed a pitcher of water on the table closest to the door, placing a finger to her lips in a shushing motion. Geralt met her eyes long enough for her to know the gesture was appreciated, and she slipped back out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

The bard was crying again. “Why won’t it end Geralt,” he sobbed, burying his face in the pillows. “Why won’t it stop?”

Geralt slipped away long enough to get the pitcher of water, pouring a glass and bringing it back to Dandelion. “Did they feed you anything? Did you have anything to drink?”

“Yes I- oh fuck, I’ve been drugged. This is never going to end. I’m going to be in heat for the rest of my life.”

“No, you won’t,“ Geralt promised, rubbing his back and rolling him onto his back and propping him up so he could press the water to his lips. “Drink.” If it wasn’t over soon, he’d get Triss. She would know what to do, even if Dandelion would hate having someone else see him.

Dandelion accepted the drink obediently, tilting his head back and sighing, letting Geralt tip the glass to his lips until it was empty. Then he slumped back again.

He laid beside Dandelion, rubbing his stomach soothingly. He knew ought to take him again but stopped to soothe him instead. Then he pushed himself up, lowered his head between the bard’s legs, and took him into his mouth.

Dandelion gasped. “G- Geralt-”

Geralt reached up to rub at his hip soothingly, letting Dandelion grab his hand and clutch it as he swirled his tongue up the troubadour’s cock. Dandelion whimpered and sobbed, clearly struggling not to thrust into Geralt’s mouth. _Whoever had said that male omegas had smaller cocks had clearly been wrong_ , Geralt decided.

The only warning he had of Dandelion’s impending orgasm was a sob from the poet. Geralt drank down the salty-tasting ejaculate, then let Dandelion fall from his mouth, reaching up to rub the poet’s stomach soothingly. “Shhh,” he said, “easy, Dandelion. Is this helping?”

“Y- yes, I- I think.”

He pushed the poet’s knees apart, nudging his nose into the soft curls he found there. The slick had a strong smell, and he couldn’t decide if he liked it or not, but decided not to think on the matter, instead pressing kisses against his pale skin.

Geralt crawled back up so he could once again press inside Dandelion, rubbing the poet’s arms as he did, burying his face in his shoulders. The poet seemed to be beyond any interest in words, groaning and sobbing beneath him. It didn’t take long to wring another climax from him, and soon Dandelion was sniffling, curling onto his side. “I- I think it’s over, Geralt.” 

Before the Witcher could react, Dandelion stumbled away, fell to his knees, then retched. There was nothing in his stomach to come up except a bit of spittle, but he clutched his stomach and moaned all the same.

Geralt rushed after him. He wrapped his discarded cloak around Dandelion, rubbing his back carefully as he knelt beside him. The troubadour was sobbing openly, doubled over in pain, his shoulders trembling.

“Are you in pain, Dandelion?”

“What do you think?”

Geralt rubbed his back, gently pulling him to his feet and back to the bed. “Lie down, my dear friend,” he said. “Shall I run a bath?”

But Dandelion didn’t reply, curling in on himself and falling silent. Geralt rubbed his shoulder for a bit longer, then murmured, “I won’t be far or gone long.” He was still surprised that Dandelion didn’t cry for him to stay, and that only worried him further.

He barely took the time to pull on a pair of pants before stumbling out of the room, down the stairs to find Triss.

She stood immediately upon seeing him. “How is he?”

“Not well,” Geralt said. “Is there a tub?”

The sorceress nodded. “The door next to yours. The water runs hot, you won’t need to heat it.”

“See if you can find someone who can sell you suppressants,” Geralt said softly. He fumbled in his pants, pulling out his coin pouch and offering it to her. “Take this.”

“I can make them,” Triss said, pushing the pouch away with a shake of her head. “I’ll mix up a large supply, and you should keep some as well if he’s going to be traveling with you.”

“I should go back-”

“Wait.” She held out a small vial. “Feed him this. The taste is awful, but-”

He took it with a nod.

“It should help with the pain as well. I could- I could hear him crying.”

Geralt nodded stiffly. “Don’t-”

“I won’t ever say a word to him,” she promised.

Another nod. He felt as though that was all he was capable of doing at the moment. “Thank you, Triss.”

“Of course.”

Back in the borrowed room, Dandelion was still curled on his side, and didn’t move to acknowledge the Witcher’s presence. “Dandelion?” he called softly.

Finally, the bard rolled over, his sharp blue eyes meeting Geralt’s. But he remained silent. Geralt stopped several feet away, crouching down. “What can I do?”

“Kill me.”

Geralt snorted, then stilled. “Dandelion-”

“It wasn’t a joke, Geralt. I wouldn’t joke about that.”

He crossed to the bed in two strides, pulling the limp bard into his arms. “Don’t say things like that,” he murmured. Dandelion rolled into his arms limply, dropping his head onto the Witcher’s shoulder.

“I’ll say what I please, alpha rules be damned.”

“Damn it Dandelion!” he scolded, squeezing him tightly. “This isn’t about alphas and omegas, this is about you being my dearest friend.”

“Humph. If you insist.”

Geralt didn’t bother asking, he picked Dandelion up without comment and carried him next door, gently setting him down in the tub as he started the water. True to Triss’ word the water was hot as it came out of the faucet. But Dandelion, usually curious about everything, said nothing.

Remembering the vial in his pocket, Geralt pulled it out, removed the lid with his teeth, and offered it to Dandelion. “Take this,” he said softly.

The bard gulped it without hesitation, then scowled. “Disgusting.”

Geralt sat beside him as he soaked in the water, but didn’t touch him, letting the bard take deep breaths to calm himself until he was ready for more contact.

Dandelion hung his head over the back of the tub, staring upside down at Geralt. “Geralt? I feel like shit.”

The Witcher snorted and gave him a wolfish grin. _He's going to be fine_ , the Witcher promised himself. 


	4. Chapter 4

Dandelion slept for nearly an entire day.

The few times he was awake he would whine and plead for Geralt to give him attention, grabbing at the Witcher’s shirt and nuzzling into him. The Witcher was more than happy to oblige, petting his hair and murmuring to him reassuringly. It wasn’t until two full days after his rescue that he seemed to have retained any coherency at all.

Geralt had finally drifted off to sleep himself, but as soon as he felt his companion attempting to move from the bed, his eyes snapped open. “Dandelion?”

“I’m perfectly alright, Geralt,” he said, a false sense of cheeriness in his voice.

“What do you need?”

“A mirror and a comb.”

Geralt almost laughed. Of course Dandelion wanted to brush his hair. “Come on,” he said, pushing himself up. “You’ll need pants as well.”

Triss had managed to get her hands on Dandelion’s belongings - including, thankfully, his beloved lute - so Geralt had a fresh change of clothes to offer him, which he happily changed into.

Geralt had to help him walk since his legs were still weak and his muscles sore. “Everything’s fine,” he murmured, rubbing the bard’s shoulder. “I’m here, Dandelion.”

Dandelion only gave a soft grunt in reply, although he did allow Geralt to help him sit in front of the mirror and didn’t run the Witcher away. His hair was a tangled mess, which he had a hard time pulling the brush through, finally giving up and untangling it with his fingers and a growl.

There was something unnerving about Dandelion only communicating through vague grunts and snarls. Geralt leaned against the wall, careful not to appear too much as though he was watching him, instead outwardly focusing on the dirt under his fingernails.

“Geralt?”

“Yes, Dandelion?”

“Would you- Never mind.”

He wanted to press the issue but decided it was safest if he didn’t.

Once Dandelion was more or less happy with his hair, he pushed himself to his feet, wincing and holding himself up with his arms, glancing over his shoulder at Geralt. “A hand?”

The Witcher stepped forward readily, catching the bard under one shoulder, wrapping his arm around him to support him. “Where are we going now, oh Witcher?”

“We are not going anywhere.”

“You’re not leaving me-”

“No, I’m not leaving you, you fool poet,” he promised. “But you need to rest, and in order to do that, we should stay here.”

“I don’t need rest,” snarled the bard. “I need to get as far from this damnable as possible.”

“You’re safe here.”

“I am?” asked Dandelion. “In the home of an advisor to the king who wrote the law that allowed me to be sold like livestock?”

Geralt closed his eyes. “Fine, Dandelion,” he said softly. “Where shall we go?”

* * *

Dandelion’s horse was long gone - stolen or sold, no one could give a straight answer - so he instead lifted him carefully onto Roach, then mounted in front of him. The poet grabbed his waist, leaning into his shoulder and sighing comfortably. “Warn me if you plan to fall asleep,” Geralt grumbled.

The poet snorted.

Triss wasn’t delighted to see them go, but she seemed to be wise enough not to protest. She refused to let Geralt pay her for the supplies she’d give them, instead telling him that she was certain he could return the favor in the future.

“So, Witcher,” Dandelion said brightly. “Which way are we headed?”

“Toward the sea, perhaps?” he offered, tilting his head. “There ought to be a good number of monsters by the coast, and plenty of warm sun to relax in.”

“I’ve always liked the sea,” said Dandelion brightly. “So I won’t argue with that.”

Geralt held the reins in one hand, the other resting on top of Dandelion’s. He was more than aware that the poet was refusing to talk to him about his problems, and that he should, by all accounts, be traumatized. But he couldn’t think of a way to bring it up without being invasive.

So instead he let the poet chatter on, demanding questions about monster contracts that he could use in his next ballad. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conversation about them heading to the coast was almost straight from the books, so I thought I’d reference it here. Dandelion is a sucker for the ocean, apparently. Probably wants to bang a mermaid knowing him. 
> 
> The next story in this series will have something that you guys have been waiting for.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to [Follow me on Tumblr](https://sunflowersupremes.tumblr.com/). I accept prompts, fangirling, and accusations of character abuse.


End file.
